Whyyyy can't I be a sun goddess? In Korea, it's desirable to be glowing white. Though I enthusiastically welcome the chance to put on shorts without feeling condemnation for the translucency of my skin tone, I've discovered that Korean cultural standards are more considerate than the Korean summer sun. To put it clearly: I'm so burned my ankles are swollen.
If I'd taken the hint from the scores of ajummas* who tread the streets wearing nothing less than massive visors, sunglasses, gauze face masks, head-to-toe lightweight clothing, and umbrellas, I might have been spared from my current agony. Instead, I chose to frolic freely from sunup to sundown on a private heart-shaped beach with my friends, wearing only a swim suit and three layers of 30 SPF. It was totally insufficient, and I'm left with the glistening memories of Bigeumdo Island and some mustard colored sunburn gel from the pharmacist to comfort me.
I grew up in western Pennsylvania, where a day at the man-made lake owned by Moraine State Park most closely satisfies the definition of A Beach. Floating in a 30ft by 20ft roped off section of murky waist-deep water beat swishing around in a plastic backyard pool, but I appreciate Pennsylvania for reasons other than the summer swimming options. The people are nice and I'm related to most of them. Additionally, we have nice farmland.
But with no community pools near my home in Bongseondong and a culture that rejects tanned skin because of its association with the working class, my expectations for discovering any calming place to swim this summer hovered near zero. Just as I'd resigned myself to dreams of future tropical excursions in southeast Asia, I learned of Bigeumdo Beach. Located around an hour by ferry from a nearby town called Mokpo, the location fit for an uncomplicated weekend trip. Facebook messages were sent, and The Family made arrangements to spend the weekend beach-side.
-
We board a ferry early on Saturday morning and arrive on Bigeumdo before 9am. Taxi drivers escort our twelve person group in a caravan of minivans along a narrow road past salt farms and rice patties, up and up and up and around a bend where our eyes greet the distinct shape of a heart far below. The beach looks exquisite, and it's entirely ours. We spend the day gasping at the novelty of it: in our 24 hour stay, fewer than ten other people wander across the beach. It's miles from any supermarkets, convenience stores, or traffic of any kind, and it feels glorious.
After pitching our tents in the sand, we pass the time by napping, swimming, napping, repeating expressions of incredulity at our great luck, and climbing the rocky forms that provide a majestic look-out point to the ocean beyond our little inlet. It is, almost certainly, the most beautiful place I've ever visited. With my head spinning from happiness (and likely dehydration from the quickly developing sunburn), I take a third nap and then lead a brief yoga session for the group just before the sun sets.
Hours after our campfire dinner settles, we return to the water for a night swim. We're stunned. The water GLOWS, and not a little: with every splash, dense, glittering particles of light gather among the drops and fade out quickly as they return to the water's surface. For any skeptics, I assure you that our perception was clear (no, um, substances were smoked, inhaled, or otherwise ingested). I also can't prove it with a photo. The best I can offer is a link I found after returning home in an attempt to understand the dazzling vision. (Check out: http://aquaviews.net/explore-the-blue/bioluminescent-plankton-what-makes-it-glow/# ) The photos in the article fail to capture anything close to what we saw, but the statement: "WE ARE IN A MAGICAL DREAM WORLD" most honestly captures our sentiments.
It still doesn't feel real, and I'm intensely glad that it was.
I'm off for now... I have a Korean final exam to fail tomorrow. Just kidding, hopefully. I intend to make up for three months of focusing my attention on other things with a sweeping review of how to give directions, tell time, list the days of the week, and many other items I definitely don't know at the present moment.
Today is 수요일. Pronounced: soo-yo-il. I sue people on Wednesdays.
토요일 means Saturday. Pronounced: toe-yo-il. I paint my toenails on Saturday.
I'm so ready for this.
Love,
Bethany
*In case you didn't see the link I attached to the last post, "ajumma" is the Korean word for grandmother. Contrasting the western expectation (or maybe every place outside of Korea?) that age brings softness and fragility, the ajummas storm through the cities with a fiery boldness that demolishes anyone in their path. They also dress the same, which looks really cute... until they jam an elbow into your side to board the bus first or tear down the sidewalk as though no one else exists. If you'll recall the 'tiny linebacker' massage therapists from my jimjilbang experience: ajummas. They're lovely.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Hike it, kid.
Getting back to the mountains: I was recently pleased to learn that on every other Wednesday afternoon the head of discipline at my school drags the worst kids along with him on a hike to the top of the highest peak near Gwangju. In rain or snow, burning sun or ice storm, they hike. Though the immediate effectiveness of such a punishment on classroom behavior remains in question, I now understand what my co-teachers are talking about when they refer to a student as, "one of the ones who hikes every time". It strikes me as a deeply positive outlet for students who struggle with their behavior, and I fully support it.
Rumor states that the average number of hikers hovers around fifteen, with repeat offenders making up a solid portion of the group. I've agreed to hike with them some day in the future, with the hope of improved classroom interactions. It's my dream to enjoy the company of all of my students, so perhaps an exhausting hike will lessen the cringing feeling that alights itself in my stomach when certain students enter the room. In the event that I do go hiking with them, I'll be sure to inform you of the results.
Since we had so much fun with links in the last post (see: Fun with Links!), I'd love to share two more. I'm certainly not the only person blogging in Gwangju, and the following posts offer excellent depictions of life in Korea.
1. This one, written in list form, provoked audible laughter when I read it. I lol'ed. You likely will too, and I recommend paying close attention to the ajumma portion. Their presence remains one of my favorite features of life in Korea.
http://partialunderstanding.blogspot.kr/2012/06/top-five-baffling-things-in-south-korea.html
2. In the second article, the author details two intensely funny scenes from recent bus rides. I had the privilege of hearing the stories in person, and his writing is so good that I couldn't resist sharing.
http://tommymryan.tumblr.com/post/24939401642/the-stone-collector
Enjoy! :)
Friday, June 15, 2012
Fun with Links!
To switch things up a bit, I have three links to share with you. I've posted them in interest order, which ranks inversely to the frequency that my voice is heard in each one.
1. Foreigner in Korea Blog
A friend just showed me this brilliant site, and my highest compliments go to whomever it belongs. It's clever and insightful and quite often totally inappropriate. If you prefer to avoid strong language, skip this one. To the rest of you, nearly every post is accurate to my experience here.
http://kikinitinkorea.tumblr.com/
2. Gwangju Performance Project Video
Some of you may have seen this on facebook already. In case you missed it, here's a supercool little video about the show I performed in. There are excellent interviews with my director, co-stars, and I show up a few times, as well.
http://www.gwangjunewsgic.com/online/2012/05/22/video-ives-just-got-to-dance/
3. GFN Radio Interview
Last Monday, my friend, Rachel, interviewed me about the upcoming theater project. Follow the link to hear us say "sooooo..." four times in the first thirty seconds (don't worry, we step it up the quality after that) in a 5 minute spiel about the project and why I value live theater.
http://yourlisten.com/channel/content/132765/Your_Words_on_Stage_?rn=2ip4byz0wybk
The images below show the recording studio and one of my latest poster designs. Look for it around Gwangju, and if you're a writer: submit your work! The Gwangju Performance Project needs you!
1. Foreigner in Korea Blog
A friend just showed me this brilliant site, and my highest compliments go to whomever it belongs. It's clever and insightful and quite often totally inappropriate. If you prefer to avoid strong language, skip this one. To the rest of you, nearly every post is accurate to my experience here.
http://kikinitinkorea.tumblr.com/
2. Gwangju Performance Project Video
Some of you may have seen this on facebook already. In case you missed it, here's a supercool little video about the show I performed in. There are excellent interviews with my director, co-stars, and I show up a few times, as well.
http://www.gwangjunewsgic.com/online/2012/05/22/video-ives-just-got-to-dance/
3. GFN Radio Interview
Last Monday, my friend, Rachel, interviewed me about the upcoming theater project. Follow the link to hear us say "sooooo..." four times in the first thirty seconds (don't worry, we step it up the quality after that) in a 5 minute spiel about the project and why I value live theater.
http://yourlisten.com/channel/content/132765/Your_Words_on_Stage_?rn=2ip4byz0wybk
The images below show the recording studio and one of my latest poster designs. Look for it around Gwangju, and if you're a writer: submit your work! The Gwangju Performance Project needs you!
Sunday, June 10, 2012
One of These Things
Early morning, mid week. A Google Chat message from another EPIK teacher pops up on my computer screen that reads:
"Bethany, I'm going to be on a televised game show."
"WHAT?"
"My students are on it. I'm pretty confused right now. I thought it was a radio show, but it's taped and I'm reading the script now."
"You're kidding. What time does it start?"
"1:30pm. There's a big, gaudy set and everything. I have to read the questions, and I would have shaved this morning if I had known!"
FAME. If I ever harbored a desire to experience life as a celebrity, my curiosity's been well indulged. After many months of this job, I continue to hear my name screamed and chanted as I walk through the school (except some clever kids decided that "Bethany" sounds like "battery" so they frequently shout that instead), people stop and stare in restaurants and on buses, I've been asked to join in photos with strangers on the street, and the ease of access to media channels continues to work in my favor. The same is true for my comrades, to frequent delight.
In addition to the opening example (which reportedly went well enough, after he recovered from the shock), another friend shares a bizarre story from his school's parent visitation day. He explains, "The principal came to my desk 20 minutes before the parents were to arrive. He told me, "Please make an announcement to the students in about 25 minutes. 'What would you like for me to tell them?'", he asked. The principal replied, " 'Just think about it'. And he walked away". The content of my friends' announcement over the school's PA system? Irrelevant. The sound of English echoing through the halls? Impressive.
The nation of Korea invited us with the expectation that we'd speak English. Classroom English counts for the majority of it, but I've come to expect spontaneous conversations with taxi drivers, passersby on the sidewalk, and most anyone under the age of seven. Thanks to opportunities made available through a couple of friends, I also get to flaunt my native language on the English radio program this coming week, and I'm training in Ashtanga yoga to assist with an English after school yoga class at a studio near my school. There's also a chance for me to lead an English yoga class for teachers at my school, but I'll need more practice first!
Though I can't fully speak for the experience of teachers living in larger cities, like Seoul and Busan, it seems that some of the enthusiastic response to foreigners there has waned. Trips to both places produced a level of distaste even among the members of my group, as we nearly took offense to the sight of so many western-looking faces. Grown accustomed to our appearance setting us apart from everyone else on the street, strolling through a foreigner-packed area reminds us of the culture shock we're likely to experience upon arrival at home. Meanwhile, a typical week in Gwangju feels something like this:
Given the situation, I'm often hyper-aware of the way my actions represent an entire country. If I'm loud, Americans are loud. If I'm miserable at speaking Korean, Americans boldly waltz into Korea without care for one of the most valuable aspects of the culture. So when people stare, I smile, lest they think foreigners are cold and unfriendly. It feels absurd sometimes, but the effort matters.
Thanks to a few negative interactions, I'm acutely aware that making a good impression goes beyond the immediate moment. Take, for example, the night my friends and I were rejected from a club prior to entering. Swallowing the weird phrase, "NO FOREIGNERS" while watching a group of Korean people walk directly into the building felt incredibly unreal. We were dressed appropriately for the venue, no one was acting distastefully, and the determining factor came down to our ethnicity. Sometime in the past, another group of foreigners, or perhaps several, ruined it for everyone. Thanks a lot, guys.
Discrimination is unpleasant. I get it, though. Living in an intensely homogeneous society where I don't speak the language creates an immediate spotlight effect onto my very presence. Children greet me with, "Hello, teacher!", even when I'm wearing sunglasses and feeling oh-so-Korean with my new haircut and outfits. Within the same week, I can receive a discount when buying shoes because, as a Korean friend translated, I "look like a magazine picture", and can also be overcharged at a restaurant because I obviously can't read the menu. It's simultaneous helplessness and empowerment, and I've grown accustomed to its quiet tension.
Yet, until and unless I establish myself as legitimate member of Korean society, weird run-ins will continue. Basic improvements include, but are not limited to, learning the language, trying a little harder to fit in, and spending more time with Korean friends. Without that, I'll remain separated, along with my sweet group of chatty English-speakers: frequently appreciated, occasionally scammed, and most often scrutinized from a distance.
On that note... I do need to study Korean. I have a test to pass in only three weeks from now!
Much Love,
Bethany ^_^
"Bethany, I'm going to be on a televised game show."
"WHAT?"
"My students are on it. I'm pretty confused right now. I thought it was a radio show, but it's taped and I'm reading the script now."
"You're kidding. What time does it start?"
"1:30pm. There's a big, gaudy set and everything. I have to read the questions, and I would have shaved this morning if I had known!"
---
FAME. If I ever harbored a desire to experience life as a celebrity, my curiosity's been well indulged. After many months of this job, I continue to hear my name screamed and chanted as I walk through the school (except some clever kids decided that "Bethany" sounds like "battery" so they frequently shout that instead), people stop and stare in restaurants and on buses, I've been asked to join in photos with strangers on the street, and the ease of access to media channels continues to work in my favor. The same is true for my comrades, to frequent delight.
In addition to the opening example (which reportedly went well enough, after he recovered from the shock), another friend shares a bizarre story from his school's parent visitation day. He explains, "The principal came to my desk 20 minutes before the parents were to arrive. He told me, "Please make an announcement to the students in about 25 minutes. 'What would you like for me to tell them?'", he asked. The principal replied, " 'Just think about it'. And he walked away". The content of my friends' announcement over the school's PA system? Irrelevant. The sound of English echoing through the halls? Impressive.
The nation of Korea invited us with the expectation that we'd speak English. Classroom English counts for the majority of it, but I've come to expect spontaneous conversations with taxi drivers, passersby on the sidewalk, and most anyone under the age of seven. Thanks to opportunities made available through a couple of friends, I also get to flaunt my native language on the English radio program this coming week, and I'm training in Ashtanga yoga to assist with an English after school yoga class at a studio near my school. There's also a chance for me to lead an English yoga class for teachers at my school, but I'll need more practice first!
Though I can't fully speak for the experience of teachers living in larger cities, like Seoul and Busan, it seems that some of the enthusiastic response to foreigners there has waned. Trips to both places produced a level of distaste even among the members of my group, as we nearly took offense to the sight of so many western-looking faces. Grown accustomed to our appearance setting us apart from everyone else on the street, strolling through a foreigner-packed area reminds us of the culture shock we're likely to experience upon arrival at home. Meanwhile, a typical week in Gwangju feels something like this:
Thanks to a few negative interactions, I'm acutely aware that making a good impression goes beyond the immediate moment. Take, for example, the night my friends and I were rejected from a club prior to entering. Swallowing the weird phrase, "NO FOREIGNERS" while watching a group of Korean people walk directly into the building felt incredibly unreal. We were dressed appropriately for the venue, no one was acting distastefully, and the determining factor came down to our ethnicity. Sometime in the past, another group of foreigners, or perhaps several, ruined it for everyone. Thanks a lot, guys.
Discrimination is unpleasant. I get it, though. Living in an intensely homogeneous society where I don't speak the language creates an immediate spotlight effect onto my very presence. Children greet me with, "Hello, teacher!", even when I'm wearing sunglasses and feeling oh-so-Korean with my new haircut and outfits. Within the same week, I can receive a discount when buying shoes because, as a Korean friend translated, I "look like a magazine picture", and can also be overcharged at a restaurant because I obviously can't read the menu. It's simultaneous helplessness and empowerment, and I've grown accustomed to its quiet tension.
Yet, until and unless I establish myself as legitimate member of Korean society, weird run-ins will continue. Basic improvements include, but are not limited to, learning the language, trying a little harder to fit in, and spending more time with Korean friends. Without that, I'll remain separated, along with my sweet group of chatty English-speakers: frequently appreciated, occasionally scammed, and most often scrutinized from a distance.
On that note... I do need to study Korean. I have a test to pass in only three weeks from now!
Much Love,
Bethany ^_^
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)